


Lone Star, Shine Down

by bigskoot



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Boone's Sunglasses Aren't Attached to His Head lol, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Fallout: Van Buren Content, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Sexual Tension, Slight Canon Divergence, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:08:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22624585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigskoot/pseuds/bigskoot
Summary: The story of a courier and a sniper.Annie Oakley and Craig Boone.Everybody knows the quests but what about the down time? And what will they discover about each other... Boone feels all too uncomfortable about it.Elements of Van Buren lore and non-canon backstory on Boone (like his ma & pa), slowburn
Relationships: Craig Boone/Female Courier
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19





	1. The First Nights

The first night she didn't sleep and took watch over the barren desert. It wasn't safe out in the open like this, but traveling nonstop for hours on end had them stuck near a rocky hill at night -- the lights of New Vegas just barely visible in the night sky over the large overbearing hills of nuclear rock. With the small fire in the center, the courier sat up against the wall watching her new companion sleep, his first recon sniper beret still on his head... rifle just by his side. She didn't trust him fully, not yet. Annie was average build, not strong enough to fight off a full grown man so falling asleep around someone she didn't quite know was off the table and with the cards laid out, she saw obvious warning signs -- retired soldier, PTSD; the moment they met she had helped him murder someone in the same town she bought a toy dinosaur in. She would be tired the next morning but a small price to pay. She didn't know he never fell asleep that night. The thoughts of the kill still fresh in his mind. He paid no conscious attention to the courier, it didn't matter... _it wouldn't matter soon._

The second night, Annie and Boone were walking along the dry, desert ground. Nearing closer to New Vegas meant more civilization and perhaps a safer place to stay. The road started to fork and a bridge with small tents and lights could be seen in the distance. She hesitated, always hesitated -- she couldn't remember anything. Every time they came across a group of people, she racked her brain for anything that would remind her of where she was before getting shot. Would she know someone here? Had she already been here? Did she forget it was dangerous? Boone said it was fine, ultimately leading them towards the bridge. He would need to keep them moving. She wanted to be careful and while Boone's instinct insisted the same, he had become reckless and dove them both into situations over the last few days; sometimes good, sometimes bad.

When they got close enough, Annie relaxed. The people here were traders, merchants, normal people that hopefully weren't planning on chopping them up and eating them. She took a glance at the underside of the bridge -- some run down cars and what looked to be a child. She looked away quickly. It felt wrong to stare, she couldn't help him, it was too heartbreaking. It wasn't something you were supposed to see. Hopefully there was a parent that she just hadn't seen _but it was doubtful._

Boone trekked up the bridge to the trading tents, Annie followed suit to buy some supplies at one of the tents. It was a small community and seeing friendly faces felt refreshing. Boone didn't bother with starting any conversations, not even to buy anything he might've needed. He leaned against the railing, sunglasses lowered to see the ground in front of him. After grabbing what she needed, she wandered over to the sitting area. As the courier started to lower herself onto one of the decrepit chairs, she glanced up at the New Vegas lights, now shown in their glory on the horizon. She quickly stood back up and walked to the bridge's railing next to Boone. "Wow," Annie stared out into the city, eyes wide like a newborn. Tall and vast, the buildings looked large even from miles away. "So, that's it, huh," she murmed to Boone but not caring if he heard. She was almost there. The man who shot her, the man with the answers. She felt no rage, no hatred in her heart thinking about the last month. Just confusion and perhaps, anxiety and fear for what kind of answers she might get. Boone didn't turn around until something made him glance down at the courier. Her eyes were sparkling. The moon was especially bright tonight he realized looking at the sheen on her hair and finally turned on his foot to face the New Vegas city. The radio hummed quietly behind them and for a moment he forgot what he was doing. New Vegas was dazzling -- one of the last, large cities in miles. He looked back down at Annie for only a moment. He didn't know what he felt that night but decided to keep watch for them. Annie fell asleep.

The third night was spent in the Lucky 38. The events that transpired being hefty and Annie feeling relieved at the comfort of a large bed, running water, and a kitchen to cook in. Above the city, she felt safe but an air of uneasiness soon took over. "Boone," she started small, sitting on the end of the bed in her new suite and the sniper on the couch rummaging through their things. "Thank you for helping me get all the way out here." She looked at him sincerely, hands together, leaning forward. "You've done so much to help me," she swallowed, "if you want to leave, I understand. I don't want to keep you around if you don't want to be here." They never really talked much on their travels. She would always be the one to bring up anything. She tried to steer clear from asking anything about his wife or life in Novac but they had talked about his father and mother once. His dad was a tough man, strict and loud with a boisterous laugh. He had died as a foot soldier in the NCR, "I learned sniping from my mom. My dad wasn't a very good shot." She remembered smiling at that. She remembered that she didn't know her mom but that her pops would've been friends with his dad more than likely.

Boone didn't look away from the bags he was shuffling through, "I'm no good out there. I don't have anything else to do except kill as many Legionnaires as I can." He took out a 10mm pistol and gazed at the barrel.

"I'm as good as dead anyway, might as well go out with a bang."

Annie grimaced, "You shouldn't say things like that." She studied his face for a moment. He really meant it. I guess she should've known with all of the damage he had taken in such a short time. She sighed, frustrated, "Okay, well, I guess if you want to stay here you can." 

"You sound like you don't want me around." He put the 10mm down and looked at her through his sunglasses.

"No, I just want to make sure it's what you want, ya know? I know I've got a lot of things going on that might be a lot for some people," Boone's eyes always made her nervous, it didn't matter if she couldn't see them. She sputtered on her words, "I mean like, ya know, like," she refocused in, "I don't know. I care about your input, what you want to do is important too." What he wanted to do. He wanted die. But he didn't say that outloud. He wanted to be around her for a little while longer. It must've been some twisted comfort he felt since she was a woman -- but he never felt that way around any woman. Annie wasn't hardened completely by the wastes or maybe if she was, she had forgotten about it. She was like a child in many ways but a woman just as much. A naivety that came up in questions about California, about the NCR, about his life. Even at the moment, she looked like a nervous girl trying to figure out what he'd say next.

"Then I'll stay."

It got later in the night and Boone had slipped away into the guest's room hours ago. Annie closed the door, fresh from the shower inside of the suite, night clothes already on. She looked at the big bed and couldn't help but smile, eyes peeling in excitement. She giggled and plopped herself onto the sheets. It was perfect and she could relax until the next morning. _The next morning_ , her smile faded. She didn't want tomorrow morning, she didn't want to wake up and put on her armor, her boots, and strap a gun to her hip. She had to see the man with all the answers. Annie spent what must have been hours, staring at the wall thinking of every scenario that might happen the next day. She thought of being ambushed inside of the casino, being kidnapped at the entrance of the Lucky 38, getting shot again. Heavy sighs followed every thought and it was becoming too much. Annie heaved herself off of the bed and opened the door to head into the kitchen. Boone was sitting at the table, head down, and bottle in hand.

There were many bottles strewn about the table, at least five or six, all alcoholic. She almost wanted to say something but felt a wave of awkwardness wash over her. _Jesus, this guy is a mess_ , she thought grabbing a water bottle. The fridge opening must've woken him up as Boone's head poked up from the table, "Oh hey," he slurred out and rubbed his nose, "what time is it?" She took a sip, "Uh, it's almost four in the morning." It looked like he was thinking too hard about what she had said, eyebrows furrowed, sunglasses tilted on his head, "Sorry," he mumbled before snapping back to reality and feeling embarrassed for a minute. He took off his sunglasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Annie noticed the redness around his eyes first but to her surprise she also noticed the color of his eyes. They were green and bright. 

He hurriedly got up and started for the door but stopped in the doorway. She stopped sipping her water. Boone's body slumped on his side, his shoulder on the frame balancing himself, he looked down at the ground as he spoke, "I fucking hate it. I hate living in this hell." Annie frowned. "I hope whatever God hates me this much just kills me soon." She didn't know what to say. Her body moved for her. She put the water bottle down and stepped toward his side, resting a hand on his back. Once he felt comfortable with the touch, she moved it in circles trying to ease his pain.

"I'm sorry, Boone."

He thought about his wife, his child, what family they could've had. Maybe Carla could've been the one rubbing his back and instead of being close to killing himself, he could be holding his sweet baby girl or baby boy. Beatrice or Beau, teach them to walk, talk. Maybe show them how to play baseball.

"Oh, Boone," he heard in a sad tone next to him. Tears streaming down his face onto the carpet. He looked at the courier. She looked awful. She looked afraid. His better judgement was beside himself and he placed his hand around her head and pulled her into his chest. He wept drunkenly into her arms. He must've thought it was a funny sight to walk into -- an ex NCR sniper wallowing in his own self pity with only a young woman he barely knew to help him. He had never asked about her life, not that it mattered much anyway. But as he continued to hold her, his cries wavered until there was nothing but silence and Boone could hear her speak to him in hushed tones like a mother would her child.

"Shh, it's okay, Craig, you're so sweet, it's okay, shh," she was still rubbing his back. He forced his brain to think soberly and decided to let go of her. She didn't need to comfort a grown man like a baby. Shame was the next emotion. Without a word, he walked away, back into the guest bedroom and closed the door.

The fourth night was unexpected. Boone hadn't spoken to Annie in what seemed like forever. She would try to talk to him but he acted like he couldn't hear her. She didn't get the chance to tell him that the courier bared the Mark of Caesar, granting her access into the main camp of the Legion. She left the Lucky 38 alone that night. It wasn't until the week when she returned that he had realized where she had gone.

The courier came up through the elevator. As the doors opened, Boone leaned up against the wall by the terminal, he was already smoking a cigarette. Annie was surprised to see him in the Lucky 38, convinced that if she disappeared, he would've as well, but there he was -- same scowl, same beret, same sunglasses despite being inside. She dropped her bag on the floor next to the elevator and looked away as she took off her armor pieces and gear.

She said the first words in her regular aloof manner, "Hey, Boone, what's up?"

He was quiet. The silence was unnerving and for the first time since she met him, she felt an air of danger. She looked up at him again.

"I heard you took a trip to The Fort."

She froze. Word must've got around that a courier spoke to Caesar himself and it wasn't hard to deduce who it could've been.

"Are you mad that I didn't take you with me?"

"Yea," he paused, "What's the point of a spotter if I'm not with you. Didn't think you'd be so buddy-buddy with Legionnaires."

She wanted to snap at him but instead, picked up her bag and started walking towards her room, "I just talked him into helping me help Mr. House out with his Securitrons." Boone abruptly puts his arm out in front of the door, "That better be all you two talked about."

Annie dropped her bag. Adrenaline rushed through her body, "Uh, who the fuck do you think you are, dude? My fucking dad? I had it under control," she shoves his arm out of the way, picks up her bag, and opens her door, "God knows if I took you, we'd both be dead."

Boone follows her, arms crossed over his chest, "I don't know you. I don't know what your plans are. You could be a Legion spy for all I know."

"Oh, yea, I'm a spy," she says huffing and throwing her bag onto the bed. She lifts a hand to her face and scrunches her nose in frustration -- sighs. "Listen, I got the place scoped out, okay. They have a lot of soldiers. They have a shit ton of reinforcements, and I know the layout. They got slaves there too; at The Fort and on the shore." Annie finally turns around more level headed, "Next time, we both go. I'm sorry."

Boone stands there, staring at her through his glasses. He's terrible at reading people but she seems like she's telling the truth. It's the same look in her eyes when she's talking to someone she wants to help. The same look she gave him when he was sobbing into her arms.

His eyes went to the floor and he nodded.

_Next time._


	2. Cold Steel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's got history.

The NCR, the Legion, Mr. House; every faction had history, years of preparation, and a fundamental sense of what they stood for, what they were fighting for. A courier stands atop Black Mountain's concrete and metal structures, overlooking the area. Miles of land stretch the Mojave. It didn't belong to anyone, not really. Groups could claim the land all they wanted; nature was the true faction. Annie gazed down at the valley below, swallowed in a sand storm. She rummaged through her bag to bring out binoculars. There were too many super mutants on the rock, she wanted to make sure there weren't any waiting for them down at the bottom. Squinting, she remembered overhearing an NCR private speak quickly, frenzied, about the large men in the hidden valley -- metal monsters, half robot - half super mutant, jacked securitrons, etc. The rumors were endless but seeing the valley from so far away, the courier couldn't make out any hulking giants beyond the sand.

Boone, gun brandished, took his time watching the bodies he had already shot down, making sure they wouldn't get up again. He looked towards the courier with her binoculars out. He knows the valley is just below them but with no protection from the gusts of sand, it would be pointless. "Hey, Boone," she calls from the balcony, "c'mere!" He almost hushed her for being so blatantly loud out in the open.

Boone made his way up the stairs to the opening. "Here," Annie handed him the binoculars. Under the hot sun, the sheen of the rocks obscured the windy valley. Down near the mouth of the cliff, he winced when his eyes were met with three centaurs. Disgusting to look at, worse to think about. Horribly mutated humans, _no, monsters_ , and who knows if they thought intelligently. _Doubtful_.

"Centaurs," he said stoically bringing down the binoculars and handing them back to Annie, "down at the bottom there," he leans into her shoulder and points as if his finger was a scope. She looks past his hand and scrunches her nose at the centaurs. She lingers a little longer by his side pretending like she doesn't see them.

"Gross," Annie leans back, "how about we just come back then," she says still staring at the valley.

The courier and the sniper turn around to the buildings before them on Black Mountain. Looting for supplies was the natural progression after a fight unless they had Legionnaires on their tail and the crazed Super Mutant, Tabitha, had many treasures buried in her assorted shelves and trunks.

The courier opens the door to the last building, a small concrete bunker with a terminal locked door. She started walking towards the door to the outside when a small noise peeped from the other side of the door -- a chair squeaking.

"Hello?" Her eyes fixed on the door.

"Hola?"

Her brain felt a rush suddenly -- that familiar word, _hola, hola, it meant 'hello', muy bien, what is that_ , she thought walking up to the door. She called out again, "Hello, what are you doing in there?"

A thick accent from the other side, a man undoubtedly, older, rougher spoke, "Oh, just playing checkers with myself, boss, but I would love some assistance in getting out of this room."

"Is it on the terminal?"

With a positive response, she walks back to the computer. How ancient technology like this didn't fry from the apocalypse, she'll never know. A password wasn't always easy to find but a quick sift through some documents and she had unlocked the door. Standing up straight, she readies her cowboy repeater cautiously.

A ghoul. He brings himself out, hands up when he sees the gun, but notices her face says there's no trouble. She is young and looks more curious than suspicious -- a great distinction to make. He laughs, "So, can I go now?"

"Oh, uh, yea sure," she brings her gun down, "let me tell my partner so he doesn't get spooked and try to shoot you down," she chuckles.

The three of them exchange quick words with each other. The courier offers supplies for his trip, he tells them to visit his shack sometime. An engineer of sorts, Raul Alfonso Tejada. The trip to Black Mountain feels successful. Boone and Annie make their way back down the mountain.

The ways around the mountain were all dangerous. With Quarry Junction so close by the only safe haven was Hunter's Farm up north on the road. Quietly and carefully, they snuck past deathclaws towards the destination. It was every day now. Annie and Boone traveling to a new location, making reconnaissance for Mr. House and the NCR. Not even the tribes, that were formed long before, that sprouted from the nuclear apocalypse, could fend off the wildlife. Trudging through dirt and dry sand, the sun begins to come down.

\--

The day was long and the night lingers over the small, domestic, rural house. "The house should be protected by all the Deathclaws around here," Annie said to her companion from the bedroom. She peeled off her boots and rubbed into her sore feet, "too bad we don't have some kind of guard dog." Boone took his glasses off and rubbed his face with the back of his wrist. A guard dog _could_ keep them from having to keep watch almost every night but knowing that Deathclaws couldn't get into the house, he struggled to disagree with the thought of getting a good night's sleep. Annie begins to step out of her armor pieces -- padded pants, tank, and socks staying on in case they did get an uninvited guest.

The front of the house had a large table and chairs placed for a forgotten family dinner. Boone lifts everything off to the side to make more space. He throws his bag onto the table and peels off his sweat soaked shirt to wash later.

"Ann," a nickname he had given her, slight but friendly. She hollered back, so Boone continued, "I'm going through supplies, alright?" A few moments pass and she doesn't answer. He stops and turns his head towards the cracked door, almost wondering if he should ask again. He doesn't and begins to go through their things.

Annie sits on the old bed, a brahmin pelt lay over it. Dogtags clasped between her hands. She looks over them again. Ever since waking up in Doc Mitchell's home, the dogtags had been with her -- her name etched into the metal. They were older than her new mind and older than any NCR tags she had seen around the wastes. The numbers, vague and unknown, and she didn't know what they meant but her name she knew.

The courier looks up into the doorway. She can hear Boone rustling about with their supplies. Her chest is heavy but she heaves herself up and walks into the room. She seats herself onto one the kitchen chairs closest to the bedroom. He's on the floor with their bags.

Boone immediately notices the tags, he's seen that kind of chain many times before. "Boone," her voice feels loud in the otherwise quiet space. She doesn't know what she wants to ask, she just wants answers. Finally, she thinks of something reasonable to ask, "Do you know how many bases the NCR has?"

He looked at her quizzically, "Why?"

"I was just curious."

He thought for a moment, trying to remember what his Sergeant had said to him years ago, "We have around 10 in Nevada alone. I think there's still some up in Utah and then down in California for obvious reasons."

She contemplates what to say next. She searches her mind for maps of California and Nevada. The names on the dogtags don't match anything. Annie thinks of dropping the subject altogether.

"Do they have a base called Fort Worth?"

Boone stops shuffling in the supplies and looks up at Annie.

He has a simple answer.

"No."

But he isn't done looking at her face and then down at her hands again. He knows it's none of his business but he's compelled by the way she looks so serious, even calculated.

"Lemme see those."

 _Let him see?_ What if she can't remember if they're supposed to be hidden. What if they aren't even hers. With a gun closer to her than Boone, she decides to hand them over, "Sure."

Their hands touch and she realizes how calloused his are comparatively. Boone, sitting on the floor, looks them over and even before a second goes by, speaks, "These aren't NCR tags."

"I know."

Now his heart is beating faster. He tries to keep his poker face on but he's furrowing his brows.

"They aren't even from around here."

"Hm," Annie starts sweating. He doesn't look comfortable. He's sweating too, _he knows something._

"Where did you get these?" His eyes haven't left the tags.

"The doc gave them to me whenever I woke up. I don't know," she pauses. She can't remember before that.

"These are Brotherhood tags."

The air in the house is sucked out. The space of the living room feels smaller, creeping in on itself. There's nothing but the breathing of two strangers. He hasn't looked away from the tags. Annie is staring at his hands.

"I don't know why I have them."

Boone gets up and she thinks he's going to hand them back. He throws them at the wall and steps away into the bathroom, slamming the door shut.

He's pacing, he's got his hands on his hips. He's muttering too quietly and quickly to understand anything. Boone stops and puts his hands on the crumbling sink, his head is down.

Annie gets up and grabs the dogtags. She takes the 9mm from her bag and walks back into the room. Bobbing her leg up and down, she listens for the door.

Boone stands with his back against the bathroom wall. Arms crossed. He thinks about Annie first. She's smart, sometimes smarter but he's seen her like a child; he would even describe her as naive to anyone. He likes her company. She's sweet.

He thinks of the Brotherhood second. His trigger finger flinches. _Bastards couldn't run out of this area faster._ He's seen them from the distance through his scope. He's seen more of their helmets covered in blood. Saw them kill a young private. First impressions are everything. The NCR was at odds with the Brotherhood of Steel for a long time, too long. They've always been around like a stain before the bombs. A lot of blood shed, a lot of families broken up, a lot of _fathers_ and _mothers_ having to enlist to fight against the ever growing threat of the Brotherhood; having to leave their only son at camp. Boone tried to pull himself out of his head but the dread held onto him, squeezing the life out of him. He closed his eyes and saw Annie. A glimpse of her sitting in front of the fire at Camp Forlorn Hope. She was crying, shaking her head. Begging to forget the NCR soldiers crucified by the Legion. She's bobbing her leg, running her hands through her hair. "I killed those men, Boone."

He opened his eyes and stepped out of the bathroom.


	3. Dark and Desolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home is where the heart is.

Craig's eyes had a hard time adjusting to the light. His mother sighs beside him, tells him that if he keeps closing his eyes in the sunlight, they'll never open back up. His father calls from the house. Craig hears his mom get up and run to the house but he can't bring himself to take his small hands off his face. A tap on the shoulder startles him but as he tries to squint at the figure, a pair of dark tinted glasses are shoved around his ears.

"There you go, baby," his mother's voice is exasperated but kind, glad that maybe she won't have to nag him anymore.

His light green eyes peer through the sunglasses as he looks at his surroundings. The rifle leaning against the tire fence, bullets and shells about the ground, a table with his water, "Mom, I'm thirsty."

She chuckles, "Okay, but can you see where your water is now, pumpkin?"

Craig half heartedly smiles and nods. He reaches over and grabs his bottle with two hands, fingers barely wrapping around it.

"My eyes feel better, I like it dark, mom," he mutters before taking a sip.

Diana Boone kneels down to the rifle, checking to see how many bullets were left. She smirks, fiddling with the gun, "Yea, you probably get that from me."

She gestures young Craig to follow her back up to the house. An NCR flag flies above the wooden structure. The town was small, the house was smaller. Barely a living room, a kitchen and a bedroom -- a tub in the bathroom for washing clothes and the occasional bath. Life on base during this time is necessary in order to maintain a familiar unit. Children being born, people getting married, generations of families being built -- all while Caesar's Legion threatened their comfort and safety. All while the Brotherhood of California stood steady from afar, picking off soldiers a little more every day.

His father is at the makeshift stove, frying what meat they killed in the earlier hours of the day. He's got his uniform on.

"Son," he bellows from the open kitchen as the two walk into the house, "your mom is gonna stay home with you today, alright? Dads' gotta go help Uncle Tommy and Aunty Darleen at the gates."

Craig stumbles over to the wooden chair they have in the dining room and lifts his knees and hands up onto it to sit. _Uncle Tommy helped him make a bow and arrow for his birthday_ , he remembers, "does Uncle Tommy want to watch me," he pauses, distracted by his dad who's lacing his boots, "um."

"Finish your sentence, Craig."

"Does Uncle Tommy want to watch me with the pistol again?"

Diana kneels in front of his chair, "maybe when he's done watching the gate, we can invite him over, okay?"

His father stays silent as he opens the door but Diana catches his eyes before he leaves.

"Michael," her smile is soft but her eyes are wrought with worry. She keeps her voice steady, "Good luck."

\--

_The sun in the Mojave is grueling_ , Michael thinks making his way towards the towers in front of the base. Private Tommy and his wife, Darleen sit under the shade of the tower -- sights aimed down towards the desert.

"Tommy, do you have eyes on their position yet," Michael says, grabbing his rifle sitting against the walls. There's more NCR soldiers to the left and right, looking through small windows through scopes. Up top, a senior sniper brandishes a cigarette to light.

Tommy, younger than Michael and as blonde as the sand, doesn't leave his sights, "Coroporal Jennings didn't tell us anything yet. Just told us to watch the West wall but I haven't heard anything else..." He trails off. A bead of sweat glides down his temple. He side eyes his brother for a brief moment before looking back down into the desert. He didn't have anything else to tell him. For how bright it was outside, he sure did feel like he was in the dark. Michael whips up his rifle, readying his aim, "Well, let's hope that's all that happens today then." A noise is heard in the distance. Darleen's ears perk up. Then Michael's and Tommy's. It's in front of them -- a man's voice. Distant but loud, sounds frantic and then they see him. He's a small frame running towards the camp sluggishly, his left hand is holding onto a service rifle, and his right hand is waving furiously, "Don't shoot! Don't shoot!"

"Jesus christ," is all Michael gets out before a crack rips through the air. The running soldiers looks caught by an invisible force and is knocked over in an instance. Then another crack through the air, from behind them -- the other side of the base. Michael's blood runs cold when the screams reach the gate. _They're inside._

The soldiers at the bottom begin to run towards the gunfire, the support of the snipers staying put up top. Tommy and Darleen are right behind Michael as they run behind a rock for cover. Michael wants to make it towards the houses but the back and forth of bullets cease any thought of abandoning his cover. He peeks behind the side of the rock towards invaders. Dust and sand kicks up across the battlefield but he can see their chassis', their helmets. He can hear the hiss of hydraulics as they scramble about the houses. Tommy anchors himself to the top of the rock and fires rounds into one of the metal beasts.

"Fuck," Darleen breathes out, trying to concentrate her fire around the houses, "how the fuck did they sneak up on us, who the fuck was guarding East gate," she screams over the bullets, frustrated and terrified.

_The soldiers at East are dead_ , Michael decides quickly as he unloads another clip into the enemy. Screams from the homes knock his thoughts back to his family. Without a word, he springs out from cover towards the farthest houses.

\--

Diana grabs Boone and lifts him into her arms when she hears the the sound of akin to a laser rifle and a sharp scream from outside. Then another. She runs towards the basement door in the kitchen and rips it open, her shoes violently tapping down on the wooden staircase. With a heavy heart, she places him in the corner of room. She flips their family pool table and starts heaving it into the corner. Craig hesitantly stands on his tippy toes to try and hug his mother.

"I love you, Craig," she kisses the top of his head, "I'll be back."

He watches her run up the stairs and the door shut. The noises from the outside boom above him like thunder. The men yelling, women screaming, he knows the sound of gunfire but has never heard it in such quick succession. He cowers behind the table. It feels like hours go by, like days passing. The clash of war is persistent. He wants to cry out to his mother, to his father but he knows right now that no one would hear him. Small Craig looks down in his hands. The sunglasses he had on earlier are clutched in his sweaty palm. He hunkers himself down in the corner behind him and puts on his shades. The hours crawl by, every loud explosion teetering him into possibly making a run for it outside. He cradles his knees between his arms.

The gunfire had started so suddenly and when the boy creeped his head up from his fetal position, the silence set in. Not even a shout in the distance. He could hear the electric buzzing of the basement's light. The dust fell slowly to the floor. When he decides to get up, his feet feel heavier than usual. The door creaks loudly to the empty house. Sun rays show themselves in through the roof and walls, small holes like the house was a pin cushion. Seeing no one is sight, Craig steps out and walks towards the front door. A soldier is standing on his porch. He turns quickly and aims but ceases when he notices the child form, "you're Boone's kid."


End file.
